


Goddamn, my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hands

by quinjjet



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No SHIELD (Marvel), Cheating, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Historical Inaccuracy, Jemma Simmons-centric, Light Angst, Light Feminist Themes, More tags to be added, Mysterious!Leo Fitz, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28653669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinjjet/pseuds/quinjjet
Summary: Jemma is set to marry William Daniels, but when she meets a mysterious man after a failed day of writing her novel, the line between right and wrong blurs an awful lot.Historical AU, but make it inaccurate :) Set in the late early 1900's, before the great depression.
Relationships: Jemma Simmons & Original Female Character(s), Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons, Will Daniels/ Jemma Simmons that is doomed to fail
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Goddamn, my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Agent_Of_Something](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_Of_Something/gifts).



Jemma was sitting at her usual spot in the corner of her favorite cafe. She was working on her newest novel, in which she had to publish under a males name, but it was her own work all the same. The alias was of her fathers name, Richard Simmons. He had passed when she couldn’t even speak in complete sentences, but she loved him all the same, and chose the name on the spine of her books as the best way to honor him. 

The place smelt of coffee grounds, wood, and a light dust of cinnamon, and she adored it. Jemma was there nearly everyday, as to avoid the man she was to be wed too. 

William Daniels was a nice enough person to earn a smile in passing, never a marriage, at least not to her. But alas, here she was, with a diamond ring on her finger and a date for the ceremony. It was arranged, of course, by her horrible mother. 

Her exact words were, “Darling, no one but this dear man will ever be willing to marry a woman with such a large personality, and strong views on their own wellbeing. You're not getting out of this one.” And no matter how much Jemma argued, she wasn’t getting out of this one. 

But at least she could throw herself into her work, the fictional characters and lives that were being invented on the page, making her feel like she had a multitude of control over her life, and the people that constaintantly floated through it, like a never ending river. And even though she had done everything to get Will to shake off, he stayed put, and she had to admire his loyalties to a girl he had known for merely a few months. 

She was stuck on the climax of her book. The character is engaged, and finally feels she has a purpose, but something goes wrong. 

Jemma just had to figure out what the something was. 

A death? She did that in her last book. A war? That was the main point of her last series. 

Poor Mariah Janes was without a hint of anything interesting, and would remain like that until Jemma could come up with that something. 

“Here is your tea. Earl Grey, little sugar, no milk?” The waitress asked. 

“I get the same thing everytime, Neta,” Jemma rolled her eyes playfully, and accepted the hot cup. 

“Just wanted to be sure,” She wiped her hands on her apron, but didn't leave. 

“Neta?”

“She loves science!” She blurts out. 

“What?”

“Aliyah. She loves science. A lot. And I know you used to do that, and sometimes still do. So I was wondering,” She twists her hands behind her, “If you could teach her? I know it’s a lot, and you write more now, but it would make her days and-”

“Of course,” Jemma answers simply. Neta stares at her. 

“Wha- Oh, yeah. Yes. Thank you!” Neta hugs her so tightly, Jemma is briefly aware that breathing is slightly difficult. Neta pulls away after a moment, and continues ringing her hands. “Truly thank you. I owe you one, Richard Simmons.” Neta winks, and a man at the other table looks up at the name, but then shakes his head, as if the thought of a woman doing anything along the lines of productive or intelligent is absurd. 

“Oh, no-” But before Jemma can finnish dismissing that one of her closest friends needs to give her anything in return, Neta’s slim figure has already retreated into the kitchen. 

Jemma takes a sip from her tea, which has cooled slightly from the length of her conversation. She sets the mug down, careful not to spill any, as the cup is still rather full, and continues staring at the blank page of the leather bound notebook sprawled on the table, full of her ideas about the rest of the story, minus the information she needs to give her writing an interesting turn.

Another hour rushes by, and the only progress she had made are failed attempts that have now been scribbled out in black. She tears out the page, as to not stain the rest of the book due to the writing not having completely dried, and closes it, giving up for today. Her hands have ink smears on them, and her back is hurting from hunching over the table. 

She slips the journal into her bag, and leaves, a bell ringing over her head, like it always does. 

She hates to have to go home so early. It’s barley evening, meaning William will still be puttering around with whatever he does during the time she isn’t there. 

A few streets from her house, Jemma hears the light strum of a guitar. She turns to see a man a smidge taller than her, tuning it. She would usually appreciate the art of the instrument, and the man, for knowing how to play it, but something is keeping her glued to the cobblestone street like tar. 

The man isn’t so far away, only a few feet, and she can make out his basic features. Curly brown hair, light stubble on his cheeks, and skin that is on the paler side. He has on a blueish gray waistcoat, and a matching suit jacket is slung over the bench that he is sitting on. 

He chooses the absolute worst moment to look up, and catches her staring at him. Instead of scowling, or running off as she expected, he smiles. A bright, blinding smile. She can’t help but return his grin, for it’s almost contagious. 

Her feet suddenly have a mind of their own, and bring her directly to the left of him, sitting on the bench. She felt like she had seen him before. 

“I’m Jemma Simmons.” She introduces. 

“Leopold Fitz. But Fitz is fine.” He shakes her hand. “So what brings you to this bench?” He asks, and they both chuckle. 

“You’re brilliant at playing.” She says. He smiles again, and picks up the guitar from where he had set it when she strolled over. He holds it out to her, and for a moment, she is awfully confused, before she registers that he is offering for her to play. “Oh no-”

“Jemma Simmons, I insist.” He continues to hold it, until she takes it. She holds it so it’s resting on the crook of her hip and her leg, and strums it. He had succeeded in the tuning, and it sounded gorgeous. She can feel his eyes on her, and for some unknown reason, that stops her from playing the strings again. When she looks back up at him, his head is tilted slightly, and his face has a light mask of confusion. 

“I don’t know any cords.” She whispers through an embarrassed smile. They both laugh quietly like it’s an inside joke of theirs. He scoots closer to her, and begins placing her fingers on different parts of the strings. 

“That,” He tapps her hand lightly, “Is G.” He gestures for her to play it. She looks down at where her fingers are pressed into the lines, most likely leaving indents. Index finger on the second fret of the third string, middle finger on the second fret of the first string, and ring finger on the third fret of the second string. 

She strums it once, and the sound is higher than before. She smiles triumphantly when the sound fades out. 

“You did it!” Fitz announced. 

“Don’t sound so surprised.” She teased, and handed the instrument back to him. She glanced at her watch, and frowned at the time. 

“I guess you have to go.” He said, then stood up offering his hand. She took it hesitantly, and he pulled her to her feet. “So long Richard.” He smiled and turned around to walk away. 

“Wait! How- How did you-”

“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. You should be able to publish it under ‘Jemma’, but here we are.” He said, walking backwards, into the flow of people, then disappearing into the crowd. 

As she stared at the place he had vanished, the answer to her writer's block was so plain and clear, it was obvious. 

Mariah Janes would get her twist. 

An affair.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh I love a good historically inaccurate AU!! This is for my beautiful online Mother, @Agent_of_Something, who is the waitress!
> 
> I hope you liked it, I don't have a posting schedule, but the next chapter will be out as soon as I finish it!
> 
> Comments and kudos always make my day, but either way, thank you for reading!!


End file.
